All the King's Horses
by Ebony Mitsu
Summary: For six investigations Danielle, the Fairytale Detective's handler, has arranged her charge's transport to her assignments with a variety of stables. Now her charge is heading to Lake Symhir, and she has arranged transport yet again. Along the way, she decides that optimism is another word for delusional. The Detective would agree. Dedicated to the missing noble steeds.


**One of the great mysteries of the Dark Parables Universe, as most fans will tell you, is _what happens to the horses?!_ Seriously. With the very recent release of DP10: Goldilocks  & the Fallen Star, this brings the tally of horses up to SIX. And thus the setting for our tale . . .**

 **This is my take on what our darling intrepid detective faces when she returns, _sans noble steed_. Please, enjoy.**

* * *

"I'm arranging transport for your next assignment." Danielle continued as though the Detective had never spoken. She had been Caro's handler since day one and could already see the groan working its way up her charge's throat. "I do not have the details of the case yet, but I know your destination."

The groan made an audible appearance. "Just please, no horses this time Dani?" the woman pleaded half-heartedly. "I can't take much more torment."

Dani chuckled. "Not my fault you lose every horse you come across."

"Not _every_ horse." The redhead retorted, affronted. "There was that one in the Snowfall Kingdom. That horse did exactly as it was told."

"But it wasn't _yours_." Danielle didn't bother to hide the amused grin; they'd had this conversation too many times. Always the same lines. More or less. "It was your guide's."

A few seconds' pause, as Danielle knew there would be. "Yes, well, I'm not a horse person."

Danielle laughed, and a second later the Detective joined in.

A week later Danielle had the case details, all nicely written up in a journal as per her detective's usual request, with nice neat clipped articles and pictures. The case brief was recorded and included in the package. So everything was brilliant on the preparation front.

But she couldn't help a dubious, wary stare at the papers sitting right in front of her on the desk though.

The papers detailing the transport arrangements.

Danielle sighed.

Her charge was _not_ going to like this.

She tapped a finger against a particular line of text on the papers thoughtfully, staring at the words. _Sturdy cart . . . highest quality harnesses and reigns . . . strongest available . . ._

No. No the detective Danielle 'handled' wouldn't like this one bit. "But it's the only way." Danielle nodded to herself firmly.

Still . . .

 **o.O.o**

It had been a couple of weeks since the detective's departure (and subsequent mini-fit when she saw the sturdy horse hitched to the sturdiest cart that her handler had been able to find). Danielle was waiting at the front entrance for her charge to return.

With the managing director of the investigative agency they worked for. And several other employees waiting in anticipation in the shadows. And her charge's mentor waiting wearily on her other side.

And the manager of the company from which she had hired the horse and cart.

The cart had been utterly destroyed; there hadn't been enough of it to even make matchsticks, apparently.

And the horse . . . well, Danielle was _sure_ it would turn up eventually. Really it would! And it _definitely_ wouldn't be at the bottom of the sea cliff where the cart had been!

She hoped.

The door opened. A weary young woman trudged inside, closing the old wooden door behind her and sighed, turning to head further in. she halted when she saw exactly who – and _how many_ – made up her welcome party.

The tired expression became thunderous.

"Now, please, Miss-" Danielle began hastily.

" _Do not say a word!_ " Hissed the detective, storming past the group and heading for the stairs and, ultimately, her rooms.

"The horse?" the director asked pointedly.

All chatter ceased. All eyes turned to the suddenly tense detective.

"I have to give it credit." She started reasonably. "It didn't run off and it didn't take the cart with it."

"Then where is it?" the man asked tiredly, rubbing a hand across his face to ward off a headache.

An unreadable look. She turned to head upstairs. She had reached the top – judging this to be a safe enough distance from her director, her handler _and_ the stable manager – before she deigned to answer.

"Horse number six is at the bottom of the cliff."

Snickers from the employees gathered in the foyer.

"Alive?" the stable manager asked hopefully.

The detective actually looked back at him from around the corner at the top of the staircase with an incredulous expression that was, disturbingly enough, just as hopeful as the stable manager's. "You mean it could fly?"


End file.
